


I've Already Relinquished My Sanity

by Snow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-12
Updated: 2010-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 16:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow/pseuds/Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You knew to have the car waiting for me.  You've apparently arranged your lunch break around my arrival.  You <em>really</em> don't need me to report on Sherlock's doings for you, do you?"</p><p>"Very good."  Mycroft somehow manages to make the words sound something other than horrifically patronising.  John is sure that it's a skill he needs frequently.  "But then why would I have you brought here?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Already Relinquished My Sanity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wrabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrabbit/gifts).



> Thanks to mypretendworld for the beta. &lt;3

"You're being ridiculous," John yells at Sherlock as he grabs his jumper and heads towards the door.

"Did you expect anything else?" Sherlock calls back, somehow not yelling despite the raised voice.

John doesn't know where he's going, but he's saved from having to figure that out by the long black car that pulls up. John gets in with a nod at Anthea that goes unnoticed in favour of her sending another text.

"We're going to his office?" John asks.

"Uh, _yeah_," Anthea replies.

John knows that he and Mycroft don't really have the sort of relationship that is suited to an office. Then again, the only actual relationship they have is based on Mycroft asking John to spy on Sherlock for him, and maybe Mycroft has decided to attempt to convince John that this is a matter of national security.

"He only has twenty minutes for a lunch break," Anthea says as the car pulls up to the office and they both climb out - she much more gracefully than him.

John attempts to arrange that fact into a frame of reference where it would make sense, but fails. He focusses instead on following Anthea and trying to detect just how many layers of security they are passing through.

Mycroft glances ostentatiously at his watch as John enters. "Please, sit," he says.

John doesn't. "You knew to have the car waiting for me. You've apparently arranged your lunch break around my arrival. You _really_ don't need me to report on Sherlock's doings for you, do you?"

"Very good." Mycroft somehow manages to make the words sound something other than horrifically patronising. John is sure that it's a skill he needs frequently. "But then why would I have you brought here?"

John is tired of people making him figure things out when they already know the answer. "Probably because you feel bad for your brother's behaviour."

In the moment before Mycroft responds, John notices that there isn't any food anywhere on his desk. "If that were the case, then I'd have to make my apologies to Anderson and Lestrade as well."

John blames the distraction over the lack of food for what he says next. "Surely I'm much better company than them." He glances at Mycroft's face to find the man smiling at him. "You do realise that being on a diet does still involve you eating three meals a day, right?" John mutters.

Mycroft's smile takes a turn for the predatory. "I'll manage something later, during one of my meetings. And I can have Suzanne bring you somewhere nice before dropping you back at your flat."

John feels that he's completely lost what little control over the conversation that he used to have. "Suzanne?"

"My assistant. The one who brought you here."

"Right." John had once known that her name wasn't really Anthea, but she hadn't given him another and so that one had stuck. He can still feel the weight of Mycroft's regard on him. It's very disconcerting. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be," Mycroft replies swiftly.

"I don't know why I'm here."

Mycroft's voice is dry. "I hope that's not an existential type of question."

John is resisting the urge to rub at his forehead. "No, it's an interpersonal question. Surely there are so many other things you could be doing than just sitting there, _looking_ at me."

Mycroft raises his eyebrows momentarily. "I can't think of anything more enjoyable."

John lets himself sigh. "I don't think that was quite what you meant to say."

"I wouldn't have been so approving of you moving in with my brother if I'd known that it would somehow serve to make you as oblivious of sexual advances as he is."

"I'm not oblivious."

"What then? You've never particularly struck me as the deliberately self-sacrificing type." John thinks he should be amused or annoyed by Mycroft's arrogance, rather than letting the words go straight to his cock. Particularly given the quirk of Mycroft's smile that proves he knows exactly in what direction John's thoughts have turned, what direction Mycroft intended them to turn.

"It could make things awkward with Sherlock," John says because he feels that he has to say something.

Mycroft shrugs. "For you, I suppose - though mostly he'll pretend not to have noticed anything."

John cannot believe that they are actually having this conversation about the hypothetical outcome of this hypothetical relationship.

"The word you want is possible." Mycroft's voice intrudes into his thoughts without an apology. "Or potential."

"The _word_ I want is crazy, as in: this is crazy."

Mycroft leans back in his chair, apparently content to let John say whatever he wants. Now that he has Mycroft's full attention, John can't think of anything that really needs saying. "I'm not usually an insecure person," he says, "but I do think I'm justified here in asking 'why?'"

"So it's not a matter of you not being interested."

John sighs. "You knew that already."

"Always good to have one's suspicions confirmed. And while the obvious is being stated: I'm interested in you as well. I'm not seeking to use you as a pawn in the elaborate game between my brother and I," John starts, because he hadn't really considered that idea yet, "And I'm not thinking that I need some kind of trophy boyfriend to take to state dinners."

John blinks. He's never had this kind of conversation _before_ the first date. "Having established all that, I think my question has to be: what are we doing here? Why not just ask me out, the way normal people do?"

Mycroft doesn't say anything about normal people being boring, which is a relief. There are some aspects of his life that John thinks would do just fine without undue drama. In as much as he could date his flatmate's brother and arch-enemy and not have drama. "I thought, considering the circumstances, it was best to have this conversation before asking you out. The facts suggested that it would increase the odds of you saying yes."

"So I'm not a sure thing?"

Mycroft's smile is warmer than John expected. "My dear Doctor Watson, this is one of the most uncertain things I've done in my life to date."

John should see this coming, given that Mycroft's desk is too wide to lean across and Mycroft stands up from his chair and walks deliberately towards where John is seated. He's still surprised when Mycroft perches himself on the edge of his own desk and slides a finger under John's chin to lift it. At this point John knows what's going to happen, but he still has trouble believing he isn't about to make a fool of himself as he leans towards Mycroft, lips parting.

Mycroft takes control of the kiss, insuring that it's soft and almost painfully light before pulling back. John musters up all his self-control to not look too disappointed.

"Wouldn't want to leave us nothing for the first date," Mycroft remarks, still perched on the edge of his desk.

"I somehow don't think that would be a problem." John doesn't think he should be as enthralled by the idea of taking this at whatever pace Mycroft wants as he suddenly is.

Mycroft, damn him, _smirks_ and dryly glances at his watch again. "Do you think you could manage to be free tomorrow evening?"

"I would say that I'll check my schedule, but as long as your brother behaves-"

"He won't."

"Then I suppose I'm as free tomorrow evening as I'm ever likely to be."

"Excellent." Mycroft leans forward again. This kiss is just as infuriatingly shallow as the first, but there's a hint that Mycroft would let John deepen it. John has just parted his lips a little more and started to extend his tongue when there's a rap at the door.

Mycroft withdraws abruptly, still looking far more composed than he has any right to look. "That would be Suzanne, come to take you back." He raises his voice to yell at her to enter.

John stands, needing the distance between himself and Mycroft if he's going to be expected to just leave now. "You timed that, didn't you?"

"Yes. I did," Mycroft says. He doesn't sound at all regretful that he didn't time things to give them another five minutes, the bastard. "However, I do actually have a meeting to get to now."

"With the prime minister?" John isn't sure if he's trying to tease or if he genuinely thinks it might be a possibility.

"Don't be ridiculous," Mycroft replies, with the same tone he used when he said he was interested in John.

"Right." John thinks this...thing he's doing with Mycroft probably counts as more ridiculous than anything else he's done, including moving in with Sherlock and joining the army.

"I'll see you tomorrow evening," Mycroft calls out as John follows Anthea/Suzanne out of his office.

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome and appreciate comments, including constructive criticism.


End file.
